Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCQPRDRZQ2ZK8J5GWNS65AG

The bell over the door gave its usual tired jingle, and the smell of cardamom buns rolled out to meet the morning. "You're early. You're never early." "I couldn't sleep. Not after what I saw at the Hollisters' last night." "Sit. There's coffee, and the cinnamon ones are still warm, which means you'll tell me faster." "Their porch light was off." "That's it? That's your great revelation? Half the street forgets—" "Marjorie Hollister has never once forgotten that light. Forty-one years I've lived across from that woman. She leaves it burning for a son who hasn't come home since 1998." A pause, filled with the scrape of a tray sliding onto the counter. "All right. That's strange, I'll grant you." "And her car was gone. And the kitchen curtains were drawn, which she also never does, because she likes to watch the birds at the feeder while she does her crossword." "You've given this a great deal of thought for someone who couldn't sleep." "I gave it thought *because* I couldn't sleep. Don't be clever before eight in the morning, it doesn't suit you." "Eat your bun." "Will you come with me? Just to knock. Just to be sure." "I'll get my coat. Bring the coffee."